Grazing Day
by Dixiegirl256
Summary: Co-written with OConnellAboo! In 4.17, Everything In Its Place, Walter, Peter, and Olivia take Gene on a field trip. When they return, Peter is walking like a man who's found his place in the world. Spoilers through 4.19 if you squint really hard.
1. Chapter 1

OConnellAboo and I have been writing buddies ever since our first Fringe fanfic. After watching 'Everything In Its Place", we were inspired to write something together, uniting all our favorite moments from the episode and creating a few of our own.

As much fun as it is to beta her excellent Fringe stories, writing with her is even better! We hope you have as much fun with "Grazing Day" as we've had. Enjoy!

* * *

"Oh, dear."`

Peter Bishop turned his head in the direction of the stall where Walter stood examining Gene the cow. "What's wrong, Walter?"

"It's Gene," Walter said sadly as Peter rose from his seat at one of the lab tables and approached the stall. "She's not eating."

Peter eyed the bucket in Walter's hand suspiciously. "Well, have you been pulverizing Red Vines in the blender and giving them to her again?"

"Certainly not!" Walter said indignantly. "I learned my lesson."

"Yeah, bright red cow patties all over the place would do that." Peter stepped in front of Gene. "Hey, girl, what's the deal, huh?" He rubbed Gene's favorite spot on her forehead; the cow nudged Peter's hand as he scratched her coat. Looking into the cow's huge brown eyes, Peter shook his head and chuckled.

"What? What's so funny?" Walter asked.

"I can't believe I'm saying this," Peter said, his smile fading a bit. "But she looks… sad."

"I thought so, too," Walter said sympathetically. "She's quite literally sad. S-A-D. Son, I think she has Seasonal Affective Disorder."

"Seriously?"

"Of course! That explains everything. She's cooped up in here all day and night, no fresh air, no sunshine… what a perfectly horrid way to live. Living things need sunlight and Vitamin D! She needs to get outside." Walter cast a glance at Peter, who was smiling fondly at him. He bathed in the light of that smile for a moment, then said, "What?"

"You," Peter said warmly. "Look at you, talking about sunlight and fresh air. Not that long ago, you were perfectly content to hole up in here like a hermit."

Sheepishly, Walter shrugged. "Well… a lot of things have changed." _I have you now_, he thought to himself.

"They have indeed," Peter agreed.

Walter cocked his head and examined Peter's face. "How _are_ you?"

"Huh? Me? I'm fine, Walter. Why?"

"You've been through quite a lot these last few months. I mean, it really hasn't been that long since that horrible day you stepped into the Machine, and… "

"Whoa, wait a minute. What did you just say?" _Did Walter just mention the Machine?_ Peter's heart raced. _If Olivia could regain her memories, was it possible…_

"Sorry? What did I just say about what?" Walter said, befuddled. "I just said you've had a difficult few months. Peter, I think _you_ need a little time out in the sunshine, too."

At that moment, Olivia breezed into the lab. "Time outside in the sun? Sounds good to me."

"Oh! Olivia!" Walter bubbled. "What a delightful idea! Gene is experiencing some seasonal depression, and Peter and I thought we might take her out for a little field trip. Would you like to come as well?" He nudged Peter in the ribs with an elbow. "Could be rather _romaaaaaaantic_."

"Walter!" Peter hissed scoldingly.

Olivia laughed fondly. "It does sound lovely. I'm actually caught up on my paperwork. Broyles even said I should take the rest of the day. So, what's the plan?"

"Well… " Walter pondered. "There's a specific field Gene is especially fond of."

"That empty parcel of land just north of Chase Hill Farms out in Warwick?" Peter jumped in.

"The very one!" Walter concurred. "How about it?"

Olivia's brow wrinkled. "All the way out to Warwick?"

"Sure, why not? It's less than two hours' drive. And the way you drive, we could get there in an hour and change," Peter joked.

"Ha-ha," Olivia said drolly. "I only drive fast when I'm chasing a suspect."

"Or when you think the pizzeria's going to be closed by the time we get there," Peter added teasingly. "Come on, Liv, whaddya say? I'll call Damiano's and have them put a picnic basket together with some antipasto and stuff. We can pick it up on our way out there."

"Oh! I love antipasto!" Walter exclaimed. "Especially… oh." His face fell.

"What's wrong?" Olivia asked.

"We have no way to transport her," Walter said sadly.

"Can't we call Broyles and get some kind of animal trailer or something?" Peter responded.

Olivia snorted. "No way he'll okay that expense. Getting the cow was like pulling teeth."

Peter absentmindedly scratched Gene's ear. "Hm," he mused.

"I know that look," Olivia said suspiciously. "What are you thinking?"

"Nothing," Peter said dismissively. "Well, nothing you have to worry about. But I think I know where we can get something so Gene can travel in style. Be right back."

"But how – "

"Don't worry about it, I got this. But I think you'll be a lot more comfortable in a pair of jeans. We've got time, so go get changed." Peter patted Gene's head, grabbed his cell phone off the table and rushed out into the hall.

"He makes me nervous when he does that," Olivia commented.

"Yes," Walter said, grinning. "Isn't it marvelous?"

ooo

Peter stood outside the Kresge building as he dialed the number on his cell phone. At the sound of the receptionist's crisp voice, he said, "Hello, Peter Bishop for Nina Sharp, please. Thank you."

He listened to the music on hold – Vivaldi's Danza Pastorale, if Peter wasn't mistaken – until he heard another voice answer. "Nina Sharp."

"Ms Sharp, it's Peter Bishop."

"Yes, Mr. Bishop, what do you want?" There was definitely a chill in Nina's voice.

"I know this is going to seem strange, but I have a favor to ask you."

"Oh, really? You want something from me? Haven't you taken enough already?" Nina said icily. She was not going to make this easy.

Peter sighed. "I have an opportunity to get Walter out of the lab and Olivia away from work for a few hours, but I need your help to make it happen."

"Go on." Did he detect a slight softening in her tone once he mentioned Olivia's name?

"In my experience, you are quite an equestrian." He waited for comment, but none came. "Olivia tells me you taught her to ride and it was a pastime you both enjoyed."

"Oh, she still remembers? I'm astonished. You haven't brainwashed her completely?"

"Ms. Sharp, I assure you – "

"You can't assure me of anything, Mr. Bishop. Vast periods of her life are just… just vanishing, as if they never happened, and they're being replaced by things that couldn't POSSIBLY have happened." Nina was starting to sound a little shrill, and Peter was beginning to re-think his strategy.

Peter took a deep breath and closed his eyes, summoning the persuasive charms of his con-man days

"Ms. Sharp, we both want the best for Olivia. Truly… I have an opportunity to get her out of the office, out of the city, away from everything for the day – I just need one small favor from you."

He paused, but there was nothing but silence.

"Walter wants to take Gene – that's his cow…"

"I know who Gene is," Nina interjected.

_Jesus, lady, gimme a break_, Peter thought, but swallowed his irritation. "Right. Sorry. He wants to take Gene out to graze today." He wasn't sure, but he thought he heard a snort of laughter. "Olivia says you have a couple of horse trailers that you've used in the past, and I was wondering if we might borrow one?"

Nina gave an exaggerated sigh. "Alright. On one condition."

"Name it."

"Really? Don't you want to hear what it is first?" Nina asked, surprised by his immediate agreement.

"No. Doesn't matter – I really want to make this happen, so whatever you want, it's yours. I'll do whatever I can."

"Hm," Nina grunted softly in surprise. Peter grinned, knowing that he'd won the battle.

"I'm sending an album of photos taken when Olive was riding, some of her events, pictures of us. Get her to tell you about them. Help her remember who she is."

"Of course, Ms. Sharp, I can do that. I'd like to think that Olivia can retain the best memories of both lives."

"Fine. I'll have a carrier at Harvard in a couple of hours."

"Thank you, Ms. Sharp. Always a pleasure talking with you."

He was about to disconnect the call when he heard Nina's voice again. "Oh, and Mr. Bishop?"

"Yes?"

"I don't like you. I don't trust you. I think you have only one person's best interest at heart, and that's your own."

Peter shrugged. "Well, I suppose that's been true in the past. But in this particular instance, my best interest is making Olivia happy, even if it's just for a day. So, you have nothing to worry about."

"You're dangerous, Mr. Bishop," Nina retorted. "Hear me well… if you cause Olive any pain, or put her in any kind of danger at all, there won't be a place in this universe or any other for you to hide. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal. I promise you, all I want is for Olivia to be safe, and happy. You don't know the lengths I'd go to for that. Thanks for your help." He disconnected the call, but this time, he was sure he heard a snort of disbelief as he did.


	2. Chapter 2

OConnellAboo writes Walter and Pete like no one else - she (and they) shine in this chapter! Thanks again for reading - enjoy!

* * *

"So…. Can I add cattle rustler to your resume?" Olivia stood in front of what looked like an oversized Winnebago, watching Peter lead Gene into a cavernous stall at the back of the vehicle while Walter danced nervously at her side.

Peter flashed one of those smiles that made Olivia feel warm all the way down to her toes. She liked this feeling, she decided… much better than the emptiness that she vaguely remembered feeling before.

"That sounds so… illegal when you put it that way." Peter chuckled as he closed the stall behind Gene and hopped to the ground.

"Seriously, Peter. Where did this come from?" Olivia gestured at the immense carrier in front of her. "And who's going to drive it?"

"I'm riding back here with Gene," Walter announced. Olivia looked at him doubtfully, then glanced at Peter.

"That's fine, Walter," Peter said kindly as he helped Walter up the ramp. "Plenty of room in the back."

"Goodness gracious! Would you look at this? It's like a mansion on wheels!" Walter exclaimed. "Honestly, it's more spacious than the first apartment Elizabeth and I had after we were married!"

Peter grinned. "Really? I can't imagine you in a shoebox apartment, Walter."

"Fifth floor walkup in a rather dodgy section of town," Walter replied. "Your mother… " Walter paused, a stricken look on his face.

"It's okay. What about Elizabeth?" Peter said softly.

"Elizabeth hated the place. The stove didn't work properly, the faucet leaked… We could have used your expertise in fixing things!" Walter smiled.

"I think I recall seeing 'plumber' listed as one of your many career choices," Olivia joked.

Walter leaned against the stall as Gene mooed contentedly. "Do you know, this reminds me of when Bellie and I went to Woodstock."

"Oh, no… " Peter groaned.

"What a marvelous time we had! There was this young woman… her father owned a dairy farm nearby, and they had the most spacious trailers for their cows. Very humane."

"I'm sure," Olivia said in a deadpan voice.

"Well, she let Bellie and I spend some time in one of her father's trailers when the weather turned bad. Oh, we had such a marvelous time in that trailer… the three of us… she taught us the most extraordinary sexual positions! I don't think we ever saw any of the groups. And I was so looking forward to seeing The Who… " Walter stroked Gene's head. "But I especially recall a particular three-way when – "

"Ooookay, Walter, Olivia and I will be right up front if you need us, okay?" Peter said, blushing as Olivia giggled.

"Are you sure you and Olivia wouldn't like to stay back here? I'm sure the walls are thick enough that I wouldn't be disturbed by even the loudest intercourse!" Walter offered. "Look at how much room you'd have, son! Why, you could even – "

"Bye, Walter," Peter said as he shut the doors to the trailer.

He draped his arm around Olivia's shoulders as he steered her to the front. "So," Olivia said, "The trailer? Where'd you get it?"

"It belongs to Nina Sharp."

Olivia eyed him curiously. "What did she want in return? Nothing untoward, I hope."

Peter's brow furrowed as he opened the cab door for Olivia. "Untoward? Haven't we had this conversation before?"

Olivia looked puzzled for a moment, then smiled. "It does sound familiar, now that I think about it… but seriously, Peter – I don't think Nina's very happy with you right now. I'm sure she made you pay for this one way or another."

"Actually, she did ask a favor in return, but it's something I would do… well, I'd do it for you, anyway. We can talk about it on the way. We need to get going before Walter thinks of something else he needs to bring along, and the picnic basket should be ready at Damiano's by now."

About ten minutes into the drive, Olivia was definitely beginning to relax. Following Peter's advice, she'd changed from her usual black pant suit into a pair of worn jeans and a warm sweater. She had just discovered that the captain's chairs were close enough together that she could comfortably put her feet in Peter's lap while he drove, so she was removing her boots and settling in for the drive to Warwick.

They chatted idly as Peter maneuvered the vehicle through the city streets. Olivia hopped out at Damiano's to pick up their lunch as he circled the block, biting her tongue when the portly Italian woman behind the counter handed her an extra takeout container. "For your husband," she had said conspiratorially, waggling her thick black eyebrows and looking over Olivia's shoulder to see if Peter was outside. "I know how much he loves my braciole. Food of love." Olivia laughed all the way back to the trailer, and finally they were on their way, headed to Lowell on I-495.

ooo

"So… full disclosure, Peter." She teased his ribs with her toes. "What made you call Nina, and what did you have to promise her?"

Peter looked at her out of the corner of his eye. He so did not want to have this conversation. He was about to say something evasive, when a crackling sound was heard. "What the hell?" Peter said.

"Hello?" Walter's voice boomed into the cab. "Hello, is anyone there? This is Doctor Walter Bishop."

"Walter?" Peter called back. Olivia shook her head at him, then gestured toward a knob on the dashboard marked ICM. "Oh," Peter sighed. "Fantastic." He turned the knob. "Hello, Walter, this is your son, Peter Bishop," he said jokingly.

"Silly boy, I know perfectly well who you are," Walter barked as Olivia tried to contain her laughter. "Peter, there's an intercom here!"

"Yes, Walter, we've figured that out," Peter said dryly.

"Isn't it fantastic?"

"Walter, Peter just said the exact same thing," Olivia chimed in.

"Did he? Great minds think alike, eh, son?"

"Yes, Walter. Is there something you need?"

"No, why do you ask?"

Rolling his eyes, Peter replied, "Oh, no reason. You have fun back there, okay? No soda for Gene, though, ya hear?"

He heard Walter sigh loudly. "When did you get to be such a stick in the mud?" Walter mumbled before turning off the intercom.

Olivia nudged Peter with her toe. "So… Nina, remember?"

He massaged her foot with one hand, stalling for time. "She's concerned about you. Just like we all are."

"Peter, I'm –"

"Fine. Right.'

They rode in silence for a few minutes. As both of them started to speak, the intercom crackled again.

"Peter, did you know that the Bhagavad Gita states that cows are the mothers of all creatures? They are mothers of the demigods that administrate creation in the material existence throughout all the universes."

"That's good to know, Walter," Peter replied calmly.

"That's something you might want to think about the next time you eat a hamburger in the lab… right in front of Gene!" Walter said snippily.

"Walter, are you ever gonna let me live that – " Peter suddenly stopped. At Olivia's questioning glance, he shook his head.

Olivia's eyes widened. _He's remembering_? She mouthed to him. Peter just shrugged.

"Peter? What were you saying, son?" Walter's voice interrupted again.

"Nothing, Walter. I promise I'll keep that in mind. You two okay back there?"

"Yes, of course, we're fine!" Walter answered happily.

"That's good. Talk to you later," Peter said as he turned off the intercom. He glanced over at Olivia. "Don't look at me like that," he warned.

"Like what?"

"All… I dunno… hopeful," he said. "I can't let myself hope that Walter will remember, too. I just… "

"It's okay to hope, Peter," Olivia encouraged him. She hated to see that haunted look on his face; it had abated somewhat since her memories returned, but she knew that the months he spent alone and unloved among the people he loved most still hurt him deeply. "I refuse to believe it was just the cortexiphan that made my memories return. Walter _loves_ you."

"Walter loves his _son_. I'm just a substitute. I mean, we're getting to a good place again, like before I got in the Machine, but it won't ever be the same. I'm not _his_ Peter, and I'm not the Peter he took from the other universe. At least, not in Walter's memories."

"We explained it to him, Peter," Olivia insisted. "And I think he accepts that this is _your_ timeline. Give him time – I honestly think he's starting to remember." Peter only nodded, rubbing her legs affectionately. It felt so good to touch her again, not to restrain his natural impulse to stroke her cheek or push that strand of hair behind her ear. "But we digress," she added. "Nina?"

He began again. "Nina cares for you a lot. She worries about you."

Olivia made a little face, pursing her lips. "Why would Nina Sharp worry about me? Doesn't Massive Dynamic keep her busy enough?'

Peter glanced at Olivia's face. _Is she kidding around_? _Or does she really not remember_?

"Olivia…"

"Peter?" Walter's voice chimed in.

Peter gripped the wheel briefly in frustration as a smirking Olivia turned their intercom on, then took yet another deep breath. "Yes, Walter?"

"Are we there yet?"

They looked at each other and burst into laughter. Walter's eccentricities were morphing from obsessive and debilitating to something no less eccentric, but certainly more light-hearted.

"Soon, Walter," Olivia said to him.

"Oh! Olivia, hello! Are you having a nice time up there with my son?"

Olivia's eyebrow shot up and she looked at Peter with a "See, I told you so," look. "We're having a fine time, Walter."

"It's… " Walter paused for a moment. "It's like… it's like a lovely family outing," he said, his voice wistful. "Well, I think Gene needs milking."

"Walter, I don't know if there's a – " Peter started to say, but Walter turned the intercom off. "_Hoo_-boy," he said.

"You're really good for him" Olivia said fondly. "He's opened up so much since you've been back."

"He really has, hasn't he?" Peter laughed. "When I first came back, he wouldn't leave the lab. And now – he's the one planning the field trips!"


	3. Chapter 3

Walter and Olivia spread a quilt and opened the picnic basket while Peter led Gene down the ramp and tethered her under a shady tree nearby. She observed them placidly, already enjoying the fresh grass, a welcome change from the hay and alfalfa in the lab.

Unpacking the picnic basket, Peter and Walter were like little kids at Christmas.

"Ah! The antipasto!" Walter said gleefully, peeling back the foil from a platter covered with cheese, meats, and peppers. Peter tried to sneak a pepper from the tray, but Walter smacked his hands, saying, "Greedy boy. You always did want the first bite of everything."

"No, Walter," Peter responded dryly. "I'm pretty sure that was you."

"Oh, was it? Ah, well, no matter! There's plenty for all of us." Walter dug back into the picnic basket.

Peter lifted the cover on another dish, exclaiming "Braciole! My favorite… I don't remember ordering this…" as he snuck one of the pinwheels out of the dish and popped it into his mouth before Walter could scold him again.

"You didn't. That's a special gift from your girlfriend," Olivia smirked.

"My… Ohhhh… " Peter grinned slyly. "What can I tell you? It's the Bishop charm. Mrs. Damiano just loves me."

"Nobody ever gave me free food," Walter sulked. "And I'm just as charming, don't you think?"

"You're a veritable Cary Grant, Walter. Mrs. D probably just likes her men a bit younger," Peter smiled reassuringly.

"And the way to a man's heart is through his stomach," Olivia chuckled, patting Peter's stomach playfully.

"At least a Bishop man!" Walter exclaimed. He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped.

"Walter, you want to ask something, go ahead," Peter encouraged him.

"Did… did _your_ mother have to bribe you with food to get you to make your bed?"

Peter's head dipped for a moment, but when he raised it again, a gentle smile graced his face. "Yeah. 'Peter, love, please, if you'll just put the comforter on properly this once, you can have bacon with your pancakes,'" he said in a soft Irish brogue.

Walter smiled back. "You sound just like her," he said.

"Yeah, well, it's a wonder my arteries aren't 97 percent occluded already, with the number of times she had to do that," he said, lightening the mood. He reached over and snatched a piece of salami from Walter's hand. "You gonna eat that? Didn't think so," he teased, tossing it into his mouth before Walter could even protest.

Olivia stretched out on the quilt and watched the antics of the two men she'd come to love. They were as much father and son as any biological pair could be. Their shared appreciation of good food and music was readily apparent; some of their other similarities were more subtle, like fierce devotion to their loved ones, but no less apparent to her.

Once the dishes were spread out on the quilt, and the wine opened, they settled into the serious business of devouring the feast. Later, Peter stretched out and groaned contentedly, leaning his head against Olivia's legs. "We should do this every week," he said, closing his eyes.

Olivia nudged him into an upright position and handed him wrapped dishes to load back into the basket. "Even if we had the time," she replied, "If we did this every week, we'd need one of _those_ to haul each other around." She gestured with her thumb toward the trailer.

"Well, jeez, if you put it like that," Peter protested mildly. Walter fussed under his breath, but they were both too full to put up much of a fight.

With the basket repacked, and Gene tugging restlessly at her tether, Walter and Olivia slowly got to their feet. Olivia stretched out her hands to Peter, who tried to pull her back down to the quilt.

Walter noticed the affectionate tug-of-war, and said, "You know, al fresco coitus has a long history in literature… why… "

"Walter, don't you have a cow to walk?" Peter replied.

"Why, yes, I suppose I do. Come along, Gene, let's see what the field has to offer today," Walter untied Gene's tether.

"Walter," Peter called as Walter turned.

"Yes?"

"That pepperoni in your pocket better not be for Gene – that's just _wrong_."

Walter pulled the lunch meat from his coat and munched on it. "Of course not. Don't be ridiculous," he said half-heartedly as he and Gene strolled away.

ooo

As Walter and Gene walked off slowly, Peter wrapped his arms around Olivia and rested his chin on her head. It was a sunny day, but there was still a chill in the air. As she leaned back into him, he pulled her closer.

"I can't get enough of you," Peter said, and was rewarded with a pleased laugh from Olivia as she nestled into his arms.

They stood in silence for a few minutes, watching Walter and Gene. Walter was having an animated conversation with Gene, gesturing wildly. Gene was grazing here and there as they strolled, but she looked up at Walter from time to time, as if she was agreeing with him.

The sun warmed their faces, but the light breeze reminded then it was still winter. Olivia shivered, and Peter suggested they go inside.

"Walter's fine," he said, squinting into the sun and spotting Walter and Gene at the far end of the field. "Maybe we get can get a few minutes to ourselves."

Peter held out his hand to Olivia as she walked up the ramp, then led her past the stalls. There was a small bed against one wall, a table and two chairs against the other. A small sofa, a flat-screen television and a small refrigerator and microwave completed the human area of the carrier. And of course, the intercom.

As Peter draped their coats over one of the chairs, Olivia took in their surroundings. "I should've known Nina Sharp would have something this plush."

"Leave it to Massive Dynamic," Peter agreed. "They don't scrimp on anything." He kicked off his boots and stretched out on the bed, then patted the space beside him and leered at Olivia.

Olivia laughed. "Don't you ever get tired of this?" she said as she slid her boots off.

"Never," Peter murmured as she stretched out beside him. "Ever," as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer. "I told you, I can't get enough of you. No matter how long we're together."

Olivia smiled and pulled his head down for a kiss. "How long before Walter notices we're gone and decides to pop in on us?"

"Oh, I think we're good. " Peter smirked. "I locked the door."

At Olivia's shocked expression, he hurried to add "I've already talked to Walter. If he and Gene come back and he doesn't see us, he can use the intercom in the driver's cabin."

"So no interruptions?"

Peter nodded.

"Good. Now tell me what kind of deal you cut with Nina Sharp." Olivia propped herself up on one elbow and gave him a pointed stare.

Peter groaned. "Did anyone ever tell you how stubborn and persistent you are?"

Olivia smiled at him. "I may have heard that a time or two. So…. Give."

Peter brushed his lips against Olivia's before sitting up and sliding to his feet. He picked up the small album on the table and handed it to Olivia.

"Nina wanted you to tell me about these photos. To see if you could remember anything about them."

Olivia sat up and leaned against the wall behind the bed. Peter sat next to her and she snuggled close, flipping through the pages.

"Peter…. I don't know. It's like – it's like some of the settings are familiar, but whatever happened there happened to someone else. It's like they told me about it, but I don't have a personal connection to it."

She leaned her head against his shoulder, letting out a quiet sigh. Peter put his arm around her, recognizing the undertone in her voice, one of failure, of feeling that she wasn't living up to everyone's expectations.

"It's alright, hon. I'd love to see them, though. Would you tell me what you do remember?" Peter wasn't doing this for Nina Sharp; he'd looked through the album earlier and mused over the photographs of a happy, laughing, teenaged Olivia, looking carefree and light-hearted. Nina might be concerned that she was losing her surrogate child, but Peter was still afraid he was asking Olivia to pay too high a price just to remember him.

They started at the beginning – photos of Olivia, Rachel, and Nina at the stables, smiling nervously at the camera. Over the next page or two, the photos showed a more confident Olivia – clad in a riding habit and mounted on a sleek roan; standing next to Nina, arms around each other, holding blue ribbons. Her hair was long then, too, but she wore it in a neat braid trailing from her riding helmet.

Olivia was turning pages idly, but Peter stopped her. He gazed at a photo of Olivia, hair down and falling loosely around her shoulders. She was standing next to the roan patting its neck, with the fond expression girls with horses seem to wear so much.

Peter was imagining another young girl… their little girl in a picture drawn many years forward in a future he hoped didn't exist anymore… the future where their only children were stick figures in drawings on the refrigerator door, where Olivia was afraid to bring children into a decaying world…

Olivia looked at him curiously. Peter hugged her a little closer to chase away the memory of her lying cold and still in the morgue; he needed the heat of her here and now to remind him that future was gone. He pointed at the photo he'd been studying.

"Do you think if we had daughters, they'd look like that?"

She laid her head on his shoulder. "Daughters? How many kids are you talking about?"

"Daughters, sons…. " Peter tried to sound casual. September's words echoed in his mind. _"You had a son." _That was definitely a conversation for another day; he wasn't sure he was ready to think about it himself, much less talk to Olivia about it.

"A little tribe of Bishops, hm?" Olivia laughed. "Girls with long blond hair and boys with blue eyes and curls?"

"That sounds good," Peter agreed. He pointed at the photo again. "With your smile."

"I hope so. And your eyes." Olivia sounded a bit more somber. "I hope we have the time."

Peter pressed his lips to the top of her head. "We will," he said with more confidence than he actually felt. "Now, tell me about some of these… do you remember any of these ribbons?"

Olivia shrugged, flipping pages again. "A little. I think Rachel was afraid of the horses." She paused. "But I'm not sure… I feel like I'm looking at someone else's life, Peter."

As they turned the pages, he watched Olivia grow up - from a gawky adolescent to a young woman, slender and poised. There were many photos of Nina and Olivia, the fondness shared between the two evident.

"This is why Nina wanted me to see the photos, isn't it?' Olivia sounded sad again.

Peter nodded. "She doesn't want you to forget her, Olivia. You're very important to her." _And she was very important to you_, he thought.

After seeing the photographs of a much-loved Olivia's happy adolescence in the privileged world of Nina Sharp, Peter contrasted that image to the one Olivia had described to him in their earlier life together. He remembered her childhood overshadowed by an abusive step-father; her first act of protecting others was turning his gun against him, only to wound him, then being haunted by his phantom presence once a year. She'd told him about struggling to care for Rachel and her dying mother, then being sent off to boarding school after her mother's death. And while she never was specific, the few stories she told of her years in the Corps and at Quantico seemed to be that of a woman, a loner, always fighting to find her place in the world.

While he was willing to give up anything, everything, to have Olivia in his life, Peter still wondered if he was asking too much of her. She was willing to give up memories of Nina, of growing up with Rachel in comfortable surroundings with a loving guardian – but should he ask her to give up those memories in exchange for a past that seemed to weigh her down, wear her down, just to bring back the memories of him? He had told Nina (and Walter, and Lincoln) the truth – he wanted the best for Olivia, even if that 'best' didn't include him. He'd been willing to walk away, as hard as it was for him. And even when the Observer told him "She is YOUR Olivia," he still struggled with what these changes might mean for her. She'd gone through so much for him…. was it fair for him to ask for more?

Olivia was quiet for a minute, then she turned to face Peter. "There was this case I worked on, one that happened before you came back."

Peter nodded again and Olivia continued. "It was one of the first cases we worked with the other Fringe Division. A man here, a man there – they had horrible, abusive childhoods. The one Over There turned into a serial killer; the one Over Here was taken in by a very nurturing woman, " Olivia's eyes strayed back to the photos for a moment, "and he turned out to be a kind man, a professor, I think."

"The difference a single person can make…" Peter murmured.

"And the serial killer… he stole people's happy memories when he killed them." Olivia shuddered a bit, remembering the man from this side hooked up to that awful machine. "He had already taken our guy's memories, the memories of the woman that raised him. We were afraid he would turn into a killer as well… because he no longer had the memories of her influence." Olivia was silent.

"And…"

"But he didn't. It was as if her influence, her impact, stayed with him, even though he couldn't remember her specifically."

Inwardly, Peter sighed with relief. If Olivia retained the benefits of Nina's devotion, even if she couldn't recall the specific events, perhaps that would soften the hard edges of the past that seemed to be returning to her. And regardless of her shifting memories, the stepfather remained dead (as far as Peter knew), and he couldn't help but be grateful for that.

"So, you might still know that Nina loves you, even if you don't remember the details?" Despite Nina's frosty demeanor towards him earlier, Peter couldn't deny the affection between Olivia and the older woman in the photographs.

"Maybe." Olivia let the album rest in her lap, and turned slightly to face Peter, cupping his cheek in her hand. "I still felt your influence even when you weren't here. I still felt _you_."

Peter cocked his head. He enjoyed the feel of her smooth skin against his face and put his hand over hers, turning his head slightly to kiss her palm, then replacing it on his cheek.

"We never told you…." Olivia's voice trailed off.

"Told me what, Livia?"

"Walter had been seeing your reflections in the lab and hearing your voice, calling to him. Do you remember doing that?"

Peter thought back to the time _before_ he emerged from Reiden Lake, cold, naked, and confused. Before that…. the last thing he remembered was standing on a platform in front of that damned machine, talking to Walter and Walternate – then, nothing.

"No. I don't remember anything between seeing you and Walter in front of the Machine and coming out of the lake. I honestly don't know what happened."

Olivia still looked worried, and didn't want to meet Peter's eyes.

"Liv, what happened? " Peter could tell there was something she didn't want to tell him, but he didn't want to ruin their day by pressing her to tell him now. Whatever it was had waited this long; it could wait another day. He decided to tease her into a better mood.

He shifted so that he could look at her more directly and in his best smartass voice said. "I knew it. You've been having sex dreams about me! You just didn't want to fess up."

By the way two bright spots of color appeared on her cheeks, he knew he'd hit a nerve.


	4. Chapter 4

"C'mon, Liv, tell me about your dreams….." he coaxed, tilting her face up to his. She bit her lip and looked up at him. It was the look that never failed to make his heart beat faster, and his cock harder, ever since their first days together at the Harvard lab. He smiled at her, and she couldn't hold back her own smile any longer.

"I didn't want to tell you," she said as she swatted his arm, "Because I knew it would just inflate your ego even more... I could just hear you – 'That's me! Peter Bishop, every woman's wet dream!'"

Satisfied the somber mood had lifted, Peter pulled her into an embrace and nuzzled her neck playfully. "Tell me!" he said as he tickled her gently. As she squirmed and giggled (_giggled!)_ in his arms, he was relieved that the worry had left her face, but now he was even more curious, so he nipped her neck and buried his face in her hair. "Tell me…" he whispered in her ear.

"Stop…. Stop!" She gasped between giggles.

"Will you tell me?" he teased.

"Yes….yes!" Olivia's eyes were bright. "Uncle! No more," she laughed as she grabbed his hands.

Peter clasped his hands around hers and, with an exaggerated movement, settled himself in an attentive pose. "I'm all ears."

Olivia blushed even more, then took a deep breath and looked Peter straight in the eye. "I think…. I think I've been dreaming about you forever. I do remember this. Us." She looked down at their entwined hands. "I remember it because I feel so differently now. Before, I felt like there was something missing, but I couldn't figure out what. A hole in my life that seemed like it had always been there."

She looked at him again, but with a gentle smile on her face. "Anyway, right after the bridge… that we thought just popped into existence… "

"Like I did," Peter interjected.

"Exactly! After the bridge, I started seeing the image of a man in my mind. I ended up sketching his face and running it through the FBI facial recognition program."

"And…" Peter's mind was racing. He'd lain awake many nights, especially during his confinement at the Federal Building, wondering why Olivia sometimes looked at him as if she was seeing a ghost. He wasn't sure if he preferred that to her regarding him as a stranger, but neither were the expressions he'd grown accustomed to seeing on her face.

"And… it was the same face Walter had been seeing. And then the dreams started. And then you showed up. And I knew it was your face I'd been seeing."

"But the dreams didn't stop, did they?" Peter said with a smirk. He was determined to keep the conversation light.

Olivia smiled then, and shook her head. "See… I knew this would go to your head!"

"That's why you wouldn't tell me… you _were_ having sex dreams, weren't you? " He pulled her back into his arms. "But you can tell me now…"

"Well….. they weren't _all_ like that," Olivia offered with a smile. She traced the buttons on his shirt. "But I've never dreamed about anyone else that way."

Peter had a self-satisfied look on his face and Olivia couldn't help but laugh. "Don't let it go to your head, Bishop. They were just dreams."

"Ah, it's probably too late for that." He placed her hand on the growing bulge in his jeans. "And if you tell me all about them, _I can make those dreams come true_…" He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

"Peterrrrr..." Olivia was trying to feign disapproval, but his playfulness was hard to resist, and why should she? She squeezed him gently and was pleased with his response; his cock reacted immediately to her touch.

"Mmmmm, Livia." Peter's voice dropped to a growl and he stretched out on the bed again.

"Well, there was one dream I had over and over…' She stretched out beside him and twined her legs with his. "I remember a few times that it was hard to face you in the lab after dreaming about you in my bed."

Peter chuckled, and pulled her closer. "Hey, I felt that way for three years, sweetheart. So you gonna tell me, or you gonna show me?"

Olivia laughed softly, a low pitched tone which Peter had come to realize was her "Well, what are we waiting for?" sound, and started unbuttoning Peter's shirt. He rolled onto his back, bringing her with him so that she was straddling him. She wiggled a bit as if she was getting comfortable, but she knew it would tease Peter even more; sure enough, he clasped her hips and moaned appreciatively.

As she continued her work on his shirt buttons, revealing a faded blue t-shirt worn soft from many washings, Peter slid his hands under her sweater and stroked her back, then pulled her down for another kiss. He felt the way he always did with Olivia; aroused, passionate, craving her skin next to his – but since the bizarre turn of events that had sent him into a future where he had been with her and loved her for many years but lost her, only to bring him back to a time when she looked at him with doubt and suspicion in her eyes – each caress, each kiss, each sound from her was a gift that he would never take for granted.

As he nuzzled her neck, he whispered "I love you, Olivia Dunham." He could feel her breath hitch and she cupped his face in her hands, kissing him hard, as if she was pouring everything she couldn't say into that one kiss. When she finally pulled back for a breath, he flipped them again so that he was nestled between her legs.

Olivia was laughing breathlessly. "I guess you did learn a thing or two from sleeping in that little bed all that time."

Peter was laughing, too, as he leaned back on his knees and unfastened her jeans. With a practiced move, he tugged her jeans and panties off in one smooth motion. Olivia leaned up and extended her arms so Peter could pull her sweater off as well.

As she started to reach behind her to unsnap her bra, Peter reached around her. "Ah, ah, ah…" Peter scolded. "This one's mine, remember?" He deftly flipped the clasp on her bra and slid the straps down her arms as he leaned in for another kiss. Olivia entwined her fingers in his hair and smiled into the kiss.

"Your turn," she said softly as she slid his shirt off and tugged on the t-shirt. He leaned back on his knees again and pulled the t-shirt over his head, dropping it beside the bed in the growing pile of clothes, then reached for the buttons on his jeans. Olivia swatted his hands away, her slender fingers already popping each one open. As he looked down at her, she smiled wickedly, then slid her hand inside his jeans and stroked his cock. "And this one's all _mine_."

Peter shivered as she pushed his jeans down and took his cock into her mouth. He could feel her laughing around him as he moaned unintelligible syllables and tangled his hands in her hair. She loved the idea that she could take his breath away, that she could thrill him as he did her when he touched her.

"God, 'Livia, wait…" Peter stroked her face as she leaned back. He eased off the bed and dropped the rest of his clothes to the floor. Before rejoining her, he admired the naked woman smiling up at him. Tousled hair, flushed cheeks, her eyes a deep olive green… HIS Olivia.

She scooted over to give him room to stretch out beside her. "Do you realize," he said, propped up on one elbow, "how much everybody is smiling these days?"

"Just like old times, when everyone was just finding out we were a couple the first time," she replied softly. "And we get to do it all over again."

Peter's smile faded into something more thoughtful. "Are you sure this is what you want, Olivia?"

She blinked slowly, the Olivia equivalent of rolling her eyes at him. "Aren't you?'

"Oh, God, yes, I'm sure," he mumbled into her shoulder as he pulled her snug against him and buried his face in her hair.

"There isn't much I _am_ sure of anymore," she whispered, "except this." She draped one leg over his hip and rubbed her body against his cock. "Except you." She tugged his shoulders till he rolled above her, cradled between her legs.

Peter supported his weight on his elbows and looked down at Olivia, her hair fanned out behind her, a faint blush on her cheeks. No matter how many times they made love, he always treasured this moment – the look of desire on her face, his want reflected back at him in her deep green eyes. Whether she was shy, or playful, or bold… this one moment before she took him into her was when he knew he was home, he was alive, and loved, and where he belonged.

Olivia stroked his back, tracing the muscles with her fingertips. She moved under him, silky and hot against his cock, and squeezed his hips with her thighs. The dreams she'd had for the last few months were merging with the memories that had flooded back; she wasn't sure what was a dream, and what was her past, but it didn't matter anymore. If it was her past, she would recreate it, and if it was a dream, she would make it a reality. She knew the weight of Peter's body, the feel of his cock pressing against her, the way his hair curled around her fingers when she reached up for him; she knew all these things as if they were written in her soul.

Peter dipped his head and kissed the hollow of her shoulder as he trailed a hand down her side. 'Hey," he whispered, dropping kisses up her neck. He leaned his forehead against hers as he stroked her gently, then rubbed his cock against her.

She pushed her body against him, answering his unspoken question. As he balanced his weight on his arms again, she caught his hand and clasped it tightly in her own. With one fluid motion, he slid inside her, then paused, motionless; he savored this first moment, wrapped in the warmth of her body, feeling her tighten around him.

Olivia looked up at Peter. He told her so much with his eyes… that he loved her, that he desired her, that he wanted to please her and make her happy. Above all else, he wanted to see recognition in her eyes, that he was hers and she was his, and neither would ever doubt that again.

"So… how do I measure up to your dreams?" He smirked and nuzzled his face against hers.

"Oh, I'll have to let you know," she murmured as she gazed into the blue depths of his eyes and arched her body against his impatiently.

He began to move with her; words dissolved into sounds they both knew by heart. What meant _more_, what meant _right there_, what meant _now_.

"Tell me…" she whispered as she looked up at him. His hair was ruffled from her fingers running through it, and damp curls framed his forehead. He leaned back and pulled her up with him, wrapping his arms around her. He bent his legs to support her back and looked at her with hooded eyes.

"I love you," he said as they rocked together, and then they didn't talk at all.


	5. Chapter 5

Sorry for the delay in posting chapter 4 - as an apology, here's chapter 5 as well! Hope you enjoy it and thanks for reading!

* * *

"It must be the country air," Olivia remarked drowsily. She was nestled in the crook of Peter's arm, her legs tangled with his, with his other arm draped possessively over her hip. They were floating in and out of sated sleep, both blissfully exhausted.

"Mmmmm?" Peter rubbed his nose against her cheek and blinked. "What's got to be the country air?"

She stroked his chest, his shoulders. Like him, she was glad for the freedom to touch him again, to feel him warm and solid under her fingers. "You. Me. Everything just felt so… intense."

She felt his quiet laughter before she heard it. "Well, I have these dreams to live up to now, you know." He leaned over her and brushed a strand of hair away from her forehead. "How'd I do?" he asked cheekily.

"You…." She reached up and twisted her fingers in his hair, tugging his face down to hers. She nibbled his lips and whispered "I don't think I've ever had an orgasm last so long. And you…." She blushed a little at the memory.

Peter traced her cheek with his fingertips. 'Yeah…" He looked down at her and smiled with a twinkle in his eye. "It must be the country air."

As he bent down to kiss her, the intercom crackled. He brushed his lips against hers, then leaned back and sighed. "One guess what that means."

"Peter? This is your father, Walter Bishop. Are you finished having intercourse? I need to urinate."

Laughing softly, Olivia and Peter quickly put on their clothes, Peter stealing one last deep kiss before opening the door for Walter. "Hi, Walter. Did you and Gene have a good time?"

"Not as good as you did!" Walter chirped, grinning at Olivia's flushed cheeks and tousled hair. He leaned in close to Peter. "Barn door's open, son," he whispered mischievously. As Peter finished buttoning his pants and went outside to fetch Gene, Walter sat down on the sofa next to the bed Peter and Olivia had just vacated, beaming at her.

"Walter, I thought you needed to use the bathroom," Olivia reminded him, the intensity of his stare making her uncomfortable.

"Hm? Oh, yes," he said. As he passed her on his way to the small bathroom, he said, "Oh, I _do_ hope the condom broke!" and closed the door behind him before Olivia could say a word.

"He did not just say what I think he said."

Olivia turned to see Gene nudging Peter up the ramp of the trailer. Shaking her head and laughing at both Walter's antics and the sight before her, she said, "Oh, yeah. He did."

ooo

Olivia took her turn driving on the way back to town, as Peter sat in the passenger seat, staring at her with a mix of lust and self-satisfaction. "Peter, stop it," Olivia barked.

"Stop what?" he asked, feigning innocence.

"That," She replied cryptically.

"What? "What can I say? I'm a very happy, very, very, very satisfied…"

"You're incorrigible. Stop staring at me like the quarterback who just banged the head cheerleader behind the bleachers."

Peter was about to reply when Walter's voice came over the intercom. "Oh, Peter never played football, dear. He was too delicate."

_I thought you turned that off_, Peter mouthed to her. She shrugged apologetically, then said, "Oh, I remember seeing a photo of him in a soccer uniform, though."

"Oh, yes," Walter agreed, "Peter did try soccer for awhile. And hockey. He was such a wonderful skater. Very coordinated and graceful. But I suppose you know that by now, don't you, dear?" Walter added mischievously.

"Yes, Walter. Yes, she does," Peter said smugly, earning a withering look from Olivia.

"That's my boy!"

"Oh, my God!" Olivia yelped in aggravation, as both Walter and Peter dissolved in laughter.

Peter leaned over and kissed her tenderly on the cheek. "Gotcha," he whispered in her ear, sending shivers down her spine.

Squirming a bit in her seat, she cleared her throat. "Down, boys," she said scoldingly. "I got a message from Broyles while you were getting Gene settled, and we need to meet Lincoln at the bridge. A shapeshifter from the other side has defected. I'll debrief Agent Dunham, and you two pick up the defector."

"A shapeshifter! How exciting!" Walter exclaimed. "I can't wait to – "

"Walter, no dissecting, right? This one's alive, remember?" Peter warned him.

"Yes, yes, all right," Walter groused. "Honestly, Peter, you'd think that when you found out you were in the correct universe, you'd become a bit more agreeable."

Olivia looked over to see not irritation on Peter's face, but a wistful smile. "Yeah, you're right, Walter. Everything just looks a whole lot better, when you know you're home."


End file.
